King
by The Waitress
Summary: Their reunion was nothing like he had ever hoped. Tracey/Misty


******Title: **King**  
********Category: **Pokemon**  
********Rating:** Teen (PG-13)**  
********Genre: **Angst/General**  
********Characters: **Misty/Tracey?, Misty/Ash?, Tracey, Misty**  
********A/N: **The title doesn't mean anything relevant to the story unless you look deep, deep, deep.  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own Pokemon or any characters.

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Scraping echoed in the massive stadium.

Water lapped against the tile lining of the Olympian pool in the center, splashing more water onto the soaked ledge. The prompt sweeping of the broom pushed it carefully back in.

He watched as the water quietly rose, pushing it back out. It was to be expected: the water filter was on, and the docile waves would not cease until the pool was completely cleaned.

Which would take another two days.

His shirt clung to him from the thick humidity. He half-heartedly attempted to calculate how much water could be in the air.

Sighing, he shuffled to the side closest to the entrance, ignoring the freshly wafted water. He had dried most of the place, perfection wasn't expected due to the filtration - or ever.

Yet he remained, occupying himself with the manual labor. He didn't want to leave this room. This used to be what he considered his second home.

The trek home would be long anyways, it's late, and dark out.

Walking home alone is a very cold journey. He had been walking to and from Pallet Town and Cerulean for several years now. Each time alone.

Except, he hasn't had to travel to Cerulean in a very long time.

He looked up at the dimmed lights, squinting, ___how long has it been...?_

The water lapped at his work boots he had traded in for his sneakers, breaking his reverie. It's been a lot longer than he cared to admit. There was nothing in Cerulean for him anymore.

He would much rather be doing something less physical. Baking would be nice. Maybe he should bake Professor Oak a cake again -

"Tracey!"

Jumping in shock he dropped the broom into the pool with a heavy splash. Tracey sighed, watching it slowly sink, then turned around.

Red hair flashed back at him, and he inhaled sharply.

Misty stood at the large entrance, leaning against one of the propped doors. The water from the splash had just barely reached her. "Misty.." He bit the tip of his tongue.

"You have been in here for hours," she stated, watching him intently, hand on hip, unfazed by his spectacle. He quickly looked away from the aggressive woman, face aflame, focusing on the platforms sleepily rocking in the water. Tracey felt something ached inside at the casual conversation, did time erase him from her?

"I... missed doing this," he grit his teeth. _What a stupid response._

Misty walked over to him, staring out at the expansive pool. "It has been.. how many years since you did this for me?" Tracey could feel the hairs on his arm stand as she stood close.

"I believe three years ago," when Ash came back for Misty was the unspoken ending. Misty gave an absentminded 'ah'. Tracey glanced at her nervously, but she only stared out ahead of her.

Silence fell.

Tracey looked deep into the water, trying to find the broom. How long has it been? Has time really gone so fast? They had grown and matured, and yet neither had really changed, merely intensified.

She remained small and fiery, ambitious and lovely and ever improving - not that she needed to. Tracey had merely grown taller and quieter, his life became static, absorbed in tedious research and sketching. Their differences didn't tear them apart, they grew apart because of his own devestated feelings and hopes.

Watching her race out of the lab, to go see Ash, had been too much to bear.

Tracey could have hit himself, he never had a stake in Misty from the start, so why did he let it ruin them? Why did he ruin their friendship?

Ash and Misty. Perfect couple, he would never stop hearing about them or having to face Ash every visit to Cerulean. Knowing he was with Misty.

___Never yours.__  
_  
Misty has grown quieter as well it seems, but perhaps, that is because he had avoided her for so long.

Tracey clenched his hands, this is his fault. All his fault.

"Misty-"

"It took my _sister_ calling you to get you to come here?" The statement made him sound like a fool.

Perhaps he was.

Tracey looked down. He could feel Misty's glare on him. "After three years. All it took was my ___sister _to get you to come see me?"

"I came here to clean-" Misty flinched, and Tracey loosened his hands, ashamed. He could never admit that he came here hoping to see her.

"Somebody doesn't travel four hours to come clean a gym."

"Yes they do.." he retorted softly, his eyes desperately pleading with her. "Misty, if you want me to leave I -"

"What, do you have someone else you need to socialize with at the moment?" A loaded remark. He has noone except his research and his art nowadays.

"Misty, you know me better than-"

"I don't know who you are! Tracey Sketchit doesn't just ___abandon _his friends!"

_Friend._ The word stung. It was too much a mournful reminder of what he could never have with her.

Misty turned around and stormed over to the bleachers, stomping one foot onto it, hands shoved in her black windbreaker's pockets.

The way she moved told him everything he knew all along. She had moved on from the times where he would have given anything for her to see him as more than a friend.

And he still would.

"I knew you wanted time with Ash," he whispered. Misty whipped around and he recoiled at her darkened expression.

"Do you see Ash here!" Tracey quickly glanced at the doors to see if the younger man was there.

"No.." He wanted to leave, he needed to get away from her overwhelming presence.

___She's not yours anyway._

"Three years. How old was I when he came back? Seventeen I believe," said Misty. Tracey did not really want to hear the recollection of her reunion with Ash.

___Did she run into his arms when they reunited? Did he pull her close, laugh in joy and kiss her? Do they go out every night? Does he touch her softly when they are alone? _Thoughts that had haunted him for years came rushing back. He wanted to know, but was terrified of hearing the truth.

Living in uncertainty has kept his hopes alive.

Tracey shuffled his feet, then hesitantly moved towards her turned back. A shaking hand, just barely, reached up, fingers twitching, to touch her back. She whipped around knocking his arm away but he caught hers gently.

Her eyes sparked, then gradually hardened.

"I merely went to say hello, to catch up with my friend. You never answered the door the next day when I came to apologize and see you. Ash had to walk me home."

Chills ran down his spine,___ that had been her?__  
_  
"So I went home, but then you never came around again. Where did you go, why did you hide!"

The contours of her face had always been beautiful to him. Now, in this dim light, he knew he could never look at her ever again with anything but aching despair in the back of his throat.

___I ruined everything.__  
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Misty's expression quivered, and she leaned her head into his chest to hide it. Tracey stiffened, a flush making its way to his face. He placed his hands on her back carefully, in case she recoiled. He dwarfed her; Tracey could feel under his hands the strong shoulders and back of the small Gym Leader.

Her shoulders were shaking, but she didn't cry. "You just left, you didn't even bother to wait for me to speak. _You left me_."

Tracey bit his tongue, opening his mouth but saying nothing for a long, painful moment.

"I'm sorry."

Misty tried to pull away and looked into his eyes, enraged.

"Sorry doesn't make up for three years! Wasn't I important to you?" Her voice echoed, magnifying her words, crashing them back into his ears with more anger than before.

Tracey held her close, and felt the deep hole in his stomach burn itself bigger.

"I'm-"

"Don't - say it," her voice was laced with the smallest hitch. Tracey tried to wrap his arms around her when Misty ripped herself from his grasp and moved a bit closer to the pool. He looked at the the puddle near her feet, ripples racing through from her steps.

"Ash returned.. so.. I-"

"Retreated," merely a whisper but reverbrated like a scream. Tracey's words lodged in his throat, he couldn't save this conversation, this one moment with her.

___I really should have said no to cleaning._

"Did you ever think of me?" What a sad sound, Tracey grit his teeth against the guilt.

Everyday. Hour. Second. ___Dream. _

"Yes. I did. A lot." Misty looked away, arms crossed.

"You ever.. think about seeing me again?" She was sounding grossly unconcerned, igniting a burning pain in his chest. He had pictured seeing Misty again, perhaps even passing her on the street in some bustling city. In most fantasies, however, she was arm in arm with Ash Ketchum. He merely played the happy friend for the two if they talked to him.

___Never yours._

Tracey looked at his hands: blisters were forming, had he really been working so long? _Waiting to see her?_

"I did," why he was admitting such a dark, painful secret was unfathomable. He never could seem to refuse her.

Misty moved a bit closer, not quite relenting. "What did you imagine?" Was her voice shaking, just the slightest?

Tracey glanced up, not focusing quite on her, then lowered his gaze. "You.. looking happy." ___Without me._

"Liar. What else did you imagine?" Tracey swallowed thickly. What he imagined, in his deepest hopes, was crossing the lines of friendship, of anything he could ever have with her.

But the look in her eyes was insistent, she wouldn't step down. He never could say no to her.

Tracey looked up and directly into her eyes. ___This is it, no matter what, _came a bitter voice inside, ___you will have something to cherish when she leaves you for good_. In one smooth stride he was near her, towering over the tumultuous gym leader. Misty tilted her head, eyes wide, perhaps aware of the height difference, the intensity of his gaze. Tracey could feel his body trembling.

He gently gripped her shoulders, shifting her back a bit, carefully, Tracey leaned down and, brushing her lips for a moment, kissed her.

_Softly._

Every dream, every sketch, every fantasy failed in the face of her. Her lips were frozen against his, bad because he didn't know what he was doing. Tracey nervously brought his hand to her hair, cradling gently, the other holding her hand, feeling her slender fingers grip his large, shaking ones.

Misty's free hand reached up to rest on his chest, and Tracy felt her move her lips against his, guiding. He followed her ministrations, moving in synch with her soft lips, through his first kiss, their first kiss.

Tracey pressed closer, a small noise escaping his lips as her teeth nipped his lower lip. He could hold her forever, arched over the woman he retreated from so long ago. The woman he loved more than anything, who haunted his life, from the Orange Islands to his visits in Cerulean, it was all her.

Slowly, he leaned back, breaking the contact, her lips red and he was aware of her hand on his chest, gripping the fabric, digging into his skin. The look on Misty's face was nothing short of perfection, and Tracey burned that into his memory. He might even sketch it someday. His grip on her loosened, and he stepped back a little, clinging to everything about her, storing her forever in his heart. He pulled away, feeling her warmth leave his body.

Then he turned and quickly walked out.

"Tracey!"

He had crossed the line of their friendship, what remained of it. If he can leave before Misty says something, perhaps he can imagine that she loved him or was happy with the kiss, perhaps -

_"Tracey - wait a second!"_

He is taller than her, longer legs, faster; he reached the lobby quickly and was almost at the exit.

Tracey reached out for the door-

Misty sprinted in front of him, arms stretched out, blocking the doors. Tracey halted, eyes fixed on the ground.

"What was that!" she snapped, "Do you just kiss girls and leave?"

Tracey could feel his lips quivering. He wishes he had never come to Cerulean.

___He wishes she could have let him leave. Please be happy with someone else and let me fade away._

"You are my first kiss," he whispered. Misty let out a breath, arms dropping to her sides. Tracey's face burned with embarrassment. _How many people has she kissed? Was his any better?_

"Tracey," Misty murmured softly, reaching out-

Tracey withdrew, he could not bear her pity. "Misty, please, this - this hurts," Misty flinched.

"You just ran away from _me_!"

"You did the same thing when Ash returned," Misty inhaled sharply, eyes closing. "I suppose I deserved that." Tracey looked away, guilty.

"I'm so-"

"No,_ I_ am." But Tracey couldn't feel any more like a loser. "Misty," he began, resolve slowly shattering, "just let me leave, enjoy your life with Ash, I will always be your friend, whenever you need me." Misty shook her head, face flushed, "I won't!"

"You have Ash-"

"Ash, the _friend._" She moved closer, he froze, watching her. "I can't let you leave, because... I can't enjoy life, if you aren't in it." Tracey stared, unsure of what he was hearing.

"Wha-"

She gripped his shoulders, sliding her hands to his neck, eyes shining. "I've loved you for so long Tracey."

Tracey's eyes widened, hands trembling as he wrapped her tightly within them. His shoulders shook as he cradled her head against his chest, kissing the top of her hair softly. He breathed deeply, trying to steady the flood of emotions inside him. Could this be real? His legs were shaking, about to collapse under him.

When he spoke, his voice broke, "I've loved you longer."

Misty laughed shyly, "Are you sure about that?" Tracey closed his eyes remembering the exact moment, the way she looked, what she said, with the barest smile on his face.

_"My name's Misty, nice to meet you." The simple addition of her hand._

"Positive."

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******END.**


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